“More? Meaning you?” I ask. I glance up at him through my lashes, almost nervous for the answer.
“Yeah. Or not. Just be careful. I’ve been a part of this world for a little while, and what happened with that rapey douchebag the other night was just the tip of the iceberg. I don’t want to see you hurt, especially by getting mixed up with Riot.”
I don’t want to seem too defensive and honestly, I don’t know if I should. Kaz is right. Riot hasn’t shown me anything more than a few unguarded smiles. He trusted me with his secrets, but I’d say that makes me just a really good friend. And while he may be short of true ones, that’s not what I’m here for.
“You’re right,” I nod before resting my head against his chest. I release a dramatic sigh. “Too bad you’ve already been claimed by the cutie in the suit. You’d make a great boyfriend.”
Kaz looks over at the young E! exec and I swear, the poor boy wilts. Kaz coughs, his eyes going wide. I try not to cackle too hard at his expense.
“Please don’t tell me that’s the reason you won’t date me. I thought I proved to you that I was into women? You know, when we were in your room, naked, and you were on top of me doing that thing where-”
“Oh my God! Don’t you dare finish that sentence!” I cover my face with my hands to hide the shame pinking my cheeks.
“What? I mean, if you want me to prove to you that I’m straight, I’d be happy to go for round two. Well, technically, round four. Just let me stretch first this time,” he winks.
“Well, aren’t you two cute?”
Her voice is like a record scratching to a screeching halt. I swear, the sound of it makes my teeth ache.
“Hey, Poppy,” Kaz greets, perturbed by the interruption. “Everything cool?”
“Oh, of course. I was just hoping I could cut in. You don’t mind, do you, Roxy? Unless I’m interrupting…”
I try. I really try to plaster on a fake smile to hide my stank eye, but it feels wrong on my face. “Sure, Poppy. Whatever you want.”
“Thanks, sweetie! Oh, this is actually a good song. Who sings this? Shawn Mendes?”
No, bitch. It ain’t Shawn Mendes, I want to scream, but she’s not even worth the words I’d have to string together.
She cozies up to Kaz, leaving me looking lonely and awkward on the dance floor, and while he doesn’t seem all that thrilled, he sets his large hands on her slender waist. Respectfully, of course. I retreat to the VIP section where Jonas is filling champagne flutes, the gleam of golden dollar signs in his eyes.
“Let’s toast to our future joint success. Riot! Get over here! We’re going to make history, gentlemen.”
Jonas shoots Riot a get your ass over here look, prompting Riot to heave out a breath before climbing to his feet. And as if an internal switch was flipped, he turns on the charm. He rakes a hand through the long layers of his hair, licks his lips, then slides on a smile so dashing that even Kaz’s new boo does a double take. The guys raise their glasses in celebration of whatever connection has been established with E! on Riot’s behalf, everyone buoyant and beautiful without a care in the world. It’s like being on the other side of an aquarium, captivated by the neon rainbow fish swimming by.
Jonas murmurs something in Riot’s ear, and judging by his reaction, it is anything but jovial. However, when Riot spots me, he sets his glass down and strides over to where I stand, just on the edge of the velvet rope. “What’s wrong?” he frowns.
I shake my head. “Nothing. Having a good time?”
He shrugs. “Considering that shit is about to get crazy? Good as can be expected.”
I’m about to ask him what he means when a commotion just yards away steals my attention. There’s a swarm of them, dressed in everything from designer jeans to three-piece suits, making it known that they have arrived. Riot’s entourage, the crew he’s often photographed with in his social media posts. They were at his last party, yet I’m surprised I haven’t seen more of them. Even a few of Poppy’s model friends have showed.
I turn back to Riot, allowing him to read the question pinching my expression.
“Forgive me?”
That’s all he says before he throws his hands up and bellows an unintelligible, although animated, greeting to his friends. Dap, half bro hug, and some other weird shit that would look like either gang signs or a corny secret handshake to the untrained eye. I fall back to avoid getting trampled or groped by the colorful clique.
It only takes minutes before more bottles arrive and the music is only secondary to the buzz of laughs and conversations happening around me. I claim a corner of a couch and commit myself to it for the night. A few guys come up and try to talk to me but after I tell them my name, they make themselves scarce. I discreetly check my breath and armpits. Surely, I can’t be that sweaty after only dancing to one song.
I catch Kaz’s eye in the crowd and wave him over. He concludes his conversation with Dane and another dude wearing a legit kilt and comes over to take the spot beside me.
“Why are you sitting here by yourself, Rox?”
“Well, apparently, I’m a pariah. That, or I have bad b.o. or food in my teeth.”
He leans in to take a whiff and pretends to inspect my mouth. “Nope. Not that I can smell or see. You’re perfect.”
“Then why won’t anyone talk to me?” I’m aware that I sound like a spoiled child, but seriously… it’s almost like they can sense I’m an outsider.
Kaz shrugs. “Probably because RB instructed that all males stay far away from you.”
My eyes go wide. “Are you serious?”
“Yup,” Kaz nods. “Especially after what he did to that prick in your bedroom. I wouldn’t consider Riot the controlling type, but he definitely let it be known that if any of these other douchebags looks at, let alone touches, you, he would ensure they’d be blacklisted from any and all events, and ostracized from the industry.”
I frown. “What industry?”
“All of them,” Kaz replies, matter-of-factly. “He can make it so that no producer, director, agent, manager, label, or artist will touch them with a ten-foot pole.”
I nod solemnly. “Which means he wouldn’t be too pleased if he found out about us.”
Kaz gives me a sad smile and lifts a shoulder. “Can’t imagine he would be. But can he blame me? Besides, it was before I knew you were you. Does he expect you to never be with anyone else?”
The real question is: why does he even care?
How is it fair that Riot gets to carry on with models, socialites, and starlets, yet I can’t even talk to another guy? He doesn’t want me; he just doesn’t want anyone else to have me. If that’s not the definition of controlling, I don’t know what is. And as much as I hate to admit it, it sounds very similar to the man who destroyed his mother. And that’s too potent a truth to digest in one dosage.
“Excuse me,” I mutter, climbing to my feet. Suddenly my dress feels tighter than it did just minutes before.
“You good?” Kaz asks, also rising. He gently grasps my forearm to steady me. I can’t be drunk, but my head is spinning.
“Yeah, just need the ladies’ room.”
“Everything ok?” Riot’s tone is flat yet there’s an audible threat in his voice. I expect Kaz to raise his palms in retreat, yet he doesn’t budge.
“Rox doesn’t look so good,” he answers. He looks back down at me, concern creasing his forehead. “Want me to walk you to the bathroom?”
I glance up at Riot, whose jaw is so tight, I’m afraid he may crack a molar. I’d never go to the bathroom alone in any club, and since I’m sans homegirl, I’m tempted to take him up on his offer.
Tempted. Not stupid.
“No, I’ve got it.” I glance between Kaz and Riot like I’m trying to decide which donut to eat. Both bad for me, yet both delicious. “I promise, I’ll be quick.”
I make my way through the crowd, perplexed and a little annoyed at how crowded it is. It’s not even a weekend; what happened to my littl
e slice of 90’s heaven? Well… Riot happened. I’m sure word got out and I wouldn’t be surprised if this place has been deemed the hottest club in Seattle.
Of course, there’s a line for the ladies’ room, but it moves along quickly. I get into a stall to do my business, taking a little extra time to myself before being thrust back into the drama of stardom.
Silly me. The drama followed me into the bathroom.
“OH MY GOD, DID YOU see what she was wearing? Looks like something she ripped off a rack at TJ Maxx.”
Sniff, sniff.
“Probably from the children’s section. What do they call those people that are super short, but aren’t actually midgets…?”
“Landon, you can’t use the word midget anymore!” Giggle, giggle. “It’s little person. And I think you’re talking about a dwarf.”
“Whatever, she’s a circus freak. I have heels taller than her.”
“She isn’t that short. I just don’t think she’s particularly pretty. I mean, I guess she’s cute in that plain, homely kinda way.”
“I don’t know what Riot saw in her when they were young.”
“Oh, you know Riot. Always doing charity work, even as a young boy.”
Cackle, cackle.
Sniff, sniff.
“Come on, seriously. There’s no way he could be remotely attracted to her now. Which is probably why she’s throwing herself at Kaz. How pathetic. Poppy, you have nothing to worry about.”
“Who said I was worried? Ladies, a man like Riot Blu doesn’t invest time and energy on some abandoned fixer-upper when he can rest his head in a penthouse apartment every night. Not unless there’s some kind of substantial return. He’s just tolerating her until his story is written. And once he’s got her starry-eyed and smitten with a flattering write-up to publish, he’ll send her right back to whatever ramshackle micro-studio she crawled out of.”
Sniff, sniff.
The coke queens finish powdering their surgically enhanced noses and finally exit. And while I feel like a coward for not busting out of the stall and telling each one of their pretentious asses off, I’m glad I waited. I wouldn’t have had a chance to hear the truth about Riot’s sudden interest in me.
I blot my face, fluff my hair, and reapply lipstick, yet it does nothing to make me feel any better. I’ve got two choices: confront him and let the door shut on our past for good? Or bury it and do what I set out to do: write a kick ass story, unearthing all of Riot’s dirt.
Or maybe I should go with door number three and see these women for who they are: cold, miserable trollops with as much depth as a kiddie pool and as much insight as a fortune cookie.
One thing’s for sure—I can’t hide out in the ladies’ bathroom all night. And while I’m far from scared of Poppy and her fembots, I am a bit chaffed from all the tea they were spilling, even if it was all BS. It wouldn’t burn so badly if I didn’t secretly believe there was at least a tiny shred of truth to it.
When I pull open the door, I surprised to find someone waiting for me. He smiles, knowing he could be seen, knowing there would be questions and accusations and rumors swirling, he still came.
“I thought you may have fallen in,” Kaz jokes. When he grins, I’m reminded of the first night we met. He’s entirely too handsome and if anyone’s face belongs on screens both big and small, it’s his. And that realization makes me a little sad.
“Yeah, uh, what are you doing here?”
He pushes off from the wall and comes to stand before me. “Wanted to make sure you were ok. I noticed Regina George and the Plastics come out and I got the hunch you all weren’t in there practicing ‘Santa Baby’ in the mirror.”
I step back, shocked. “You’ve seen Mean Girls?”
“Yeah. Who hasn’t?” he shrugs. “You go, Glenn Coco!”
My laugh is cut off by the realization that I could fall for Kaz if my heart were available. But even if it was, I could never risk retaliation from Riot if he actually made good on his promise to blacklist Kaz from the entertainment industry. I guess no matter what, the stars will never align for us.
As if he’s not only seeing the battle waging behind my eyes but is right there on the front lines, he nods solemnly. Then he extends the crook of his arm.
“Come on, Rox Lee. Let’s get you a drink.”
I’m tempted to tell Kaz to bypass VIP and just go to the bar like my fellow commoners, but then it may look like we’re being sneaky. And hell no, Riot doesn’t have any say when it comes to who I talk to, but until I can find a quiet moment to confront him away from the cameras and brown nosers, it’s best that I play by his rules to keep the heat off Kaz.
The rest of the night is taken over by drunken wanna-bes, social media whores, and Riot appearing to embrace it all. He takes selfies and snaps with fans and stans, pops champagne like he’s ‘99 Damon Dash pre-Jay-Z beef, and plays up the superstar role for the E! execs as if he’s auditioning. I get it—no one wants to watch a guy sit around with his guitar serenading his sick mother or gorging on Mexican food. A star isn’t validated unless viewers can simultaneously fantasize about and despise them. And in this world, excess and scandal sell.
I don’t miss Poppy and her piranhas glaring at me from feet away. Rolling their eyes, whispering to each other. Poppy glares at me and makes a comment under her breath, causing them all to cackle. And of course, Riot takes that opportunity to go over and plant a kiss on his girlfriend’s cheek, inflating her head more. She laughs in that pretty way girls do when they want men to notice them, chin tipped back, eyes lowered just enough to be considered seductive versus squinty, fingertips caressing the base of her throat to draw attention to her cleavage. She’s mastered the art of fishing for admiration. And of course, the guys take the bait.
“Ugh. I don’t understand why anyone would party here. It’s a dump,” Poppy whines, trying to be both cute and bitchy. “There was no bathroom attendant and their best champagne is Cristal. Who the hell drinks Cristal anymore?”
“Poor people and posers,” her friend sneers, cutting her eyes in my direction.
I’m invisible here. No one can talk to me, and even if they could, why would they when there’s an assortment of tall, slender models to serve as eye candy. I don’t belong here, and I regret thinking I ever could. If this were Gossip Girl, I’d be a (less aggravating, eye-roll inducing) Vanessa, and while Riot was once my (sexier) Dan Humphrey, he’s fallen into the Upper East Side snake pit. Maybe he’s become Nate. Or even Chuck Bass, minus the rapey vibe.
The hyenas are still cackling, so I take it as the perfect opportunity to escape with my dignity and what’s left of my patience. They have nothing to lose; everything I have is on the line. They expect me to react and live up to every harmful stereotype that’s been assigned to me since birth. I won’t give them the satisfaction.
I collect my purse and nerve and strut towards the velvet ropes, head held high. I hear Kaz call my name from yards away, but now that I’ve committed to leaving, I can’t stop now. Only problem is, I have to pass Riot and his merry band of mean girls to get out of this place.
“Hey, Rox, you good?” Riot frowns with concern as I approach. I ignore him and try to brush past.
“Aw, leaving so soon? The fun is just starting,” Poppy chimes in, playing up the sweet and innocent act. The fact that Riot still falls for it is mind-boggling.
“She isn’t going anywhere,” a voice from behind the cocaine clique says, prompting them turn away. “And you’re right, the fun is just starting.”
I swear, if I wasn’t straight, I’d leap over those bitches and tongue kiss Haze in front of everyone. I still might do it.
“Hazel Figaro,” Riot muses, shaking his head. He signals for the bodyguard to open the velvet rope. “Damn, girl. How have you been?”
Haze struts up to Riot, bypassing the thirsty models as if they don’t even exist. She kisses him on each cheek before they embrace.
“Riot-motherfucking-Blu. They just let anyone in here,
I see. Hope you’re enjoying yourself.”
“I am,” he nods. “I like this spot.”
“Other than the drink selection,” Poppy butts in, as if she was even part of the conversation. Haze hardly spares her a glance, but Poppy damn near tramples her friends to take the spot at Riot’s side. She smiles like a lunatic. “Poppy Brooks. And you are…?”
“Haze Figaro. And apologies for the beverages. I can see you’re…” She pauses and looks Poppy up and down. “Thirsty.”
Poppy is left with her mouth nearly to the floor when Haze turns to me and squeals. “Bitch, I’ve missed you so much!” She squeezes me so tight I can’t breathe and I do the same to her. It’s only been days, but it feels like months.
“I’ve missed you too! I thought you had plans tonight.”
“I did, which is why I’m here.”
Haze waves someone over that’s hanging around the bar. Well dressed in jewel tones and velvet, but it looks damn good on him. I’d guess forties by the strands of gray intertwined in his long dreadlocks pulled back from his handsome face. And as fabulous and flamboyant as Haze. I hope this isn’t a hook up. Something tells me I wouldn’t be his type.
“Jean LaRue, I’d like you to meet my friends. I’m sure you’ve heard of Riot Blu.”
“Ah, yes. Who hasn’t? How do you do?” Jean greets, shaking Riot’s hand.
“Pleased to meet you,” Riot replies.
Haze turns to me, ignoring Poppy’s eager, wide stare. “And this is my very best friend in the world and famed writer, Rox Lee.”
As I shake the man’s outstretched hand, it hits me. “Oh my God. You’re the Jean LaRue. The photographer! You’ve shot everyone from Cher to Gigi Hadid and have had your work featured in Vogue more than any other photographer in the past five years. Haze and I went to your exhibition at the Seattle Art Museum. I’m a huge fan.”
“Thank you, lovely. And you…” He holds me at arm’s length to get a look at me. “You are a vision in this dress. It’s like it was made for you!”
Rhythm and Blu Page 14